In Which Redshirts are Zombified, A Science Essay
by ZenaraTheDragon
Summary: Oneshot. This is my creative writing/science assignment essay involving the immune system. Seriously. And my science teacher, knowing I am a Trekkie, actually did say to me, "It can involve tribbles." So this is... Well. You read the title.


In Which Redshirts are Zombified, the Borg are Borglike, and Someone Accidentally the Tribble

* * *

'We really need to scan planets more thoroughly,' Captain Brandt mused as he fled from two decomposing security guards.

* * *

The USS Alameda rendezvoused with the Enterprise two days later. They beamed a sealed petri dish directly to a quarantined area of the Science labs, before Captain Brandt could be heard giving the order to self-destruct. "It's for the safety of everyone," he gasped as his First Officer entered the second command code.

* * *

_Spock should have known better than to sent a security guard to deliver a biohazardous petri dish to Sickbay_, Doctor McCoy thought nastily as he brandished a phaser at said security guard, forcing him into the quarantine area.

Sealing the door, he glared glumly at the red-shirted ensign, whose skin was starting to turn green and peel. A beeping from his tricorder drew his attention, and his eyes widened in horror as he read the analysis.

* * *

"Is it related to leprosy, Bones?" Captain Kirk asked, staring at the rotting patches on the infected guard's skin.

"It's worse than that, he's undead, Jim!" McCoy glanced at the tricorder again.

"Undead?"

"Just like the old Earth zombie movies. An animated corpse."

"How is this possible?"

"Apparently the bacteria that caused this developed a sort of artificial cerebellum, controlling the nervous and muscular systems even when the host is being consumed by the bacteria itself. This kind of behavior is usually more of a fungal trait, but it was found on an alien planet; I've stopped expecting Earthlike things out here. But as it stands, we have, in effect, a zombie."

"Can you cure it?"

McCoy glared at the captain. "This man is dead already. I'll prepare an antibiotic for the rest of the crew, but they'd have to be inoculated within ten minutes of being infected, and symptoms don't show up for a good half hour." He shook his head. "Even then, we wouldn't be completely safe. This bacteria can survive on a wall, a door, the tiniest smear of blood. We'd have to sterilize the entire ship, and even then there are plenty on nooks and crannies it would find a way to hide in. We're just lucky it isn't airborne." The captain's face fell. McCoy glowered at him.

"I'll start on the antibiotic. But even with all the precautions possible, it's not completely safe. So don't blame me if you end up with a zombie CMO!"

McCoy sighed as Captain Kirk left, glancing again at the quarantined victim. "Time to pull out the old biohazard suits."

* * *

It turned out the bacteria was relatively easy to get rid of- _before_ it killed the host. The problem was the alacrity with which it performed that task. A sort of prokaryotic amoeba, it attacked vital brain functions within minutes of entering a living being, locating and reproducing the victim's own antigens along the way, preventing the immune system from recognizing it as an invader. It did have a protein specific to its membrane that let it be identified, though.

The alien bacteria fed on rotting flesh, multiplying as it helped decompose its host. Eventually, the bacteria could produce pseudo-muscle cells, to replace the ones that rotted away. Given time, a host could, possibly, be made from the bacteria itself. And yet the creature would have no more intelligence than it took to open and close jaws and hands, and move feet, to hunt and consume its prey.

Dr. Leonard McCoy, Chief Medical Officer aboard the United Starship Enterprise, loved biohazard suits. Sure, they were uncomfortable and stupid-looking, but in times like these, with alien diseases running rampant, McCoy was glad to have something between him and the object of his study.

In fact, the biohazard suit was the only thing that kept him uninfected when the ship lurched suddenly, making him stick his finger in a soup of bacteria-riddled, liquefied flesh. Revolted, McCoy stepped into the decontamination chamber to be sure the infectious sludge was gone before heading to the Bridge to see what in blue blazes was going on.

* * *

"Jim! What in blue blazes is going on?!" McCoy demanded as soon as he stepped onto the Bridge, having to clutch one of the safety rails as the ship lurched again.

"We're under attack," Kirk informed him grimly, indicating the enormous cube-shaped ship in front of them.

"Well, who're they?!"

An ominous voice echoed over the Enterprise's communication system. "WE ARE THE BORG. YOUR TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS WILL BE ADDED TO OUR OWN. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED."

"Sensors show at least ten thousand life forms on board," Spock informed them.

"DO NOT RESIST. RESISTANCE IS-"

"Yes, we know!" the Captain shouted over the Borg's mantra. "Lt. Uhura, will you please close the hailing frequencies?!"

"I'm trying, sir!" Lt. Uhura said, frantically pressing buttons on her control console. "They keep opening the channel."

"Yeah, well, in the meantime, we've nearly got an outbreak of zombitis in Sickbay!"

"Zombitits? Is that what you're calling it, Bones?"

"Dammit Jim! This is serious!" The captain smothered his mischievous grin and turned to the main viewer just in time to see the Borg fire a tractor beam at the Enterprise.

"Bones!" Captain Kirk yelped gleefully. "Can we get rid of two problems at once?"

"What?!"

"The Borg and the bacteria!"

"Oh no, Jim," McCoy growled. "You're not getting anywhere near such a dangerous combination of things while you have that look on your face, like a kid who's suddenly found out how to burn ants with a magnifying glass. No way."

* * *

Kirk pouted but focused his attention back on the attacking Borg vessel. "Fire photon torpedoes, full spread," he ordered. The front of the Borg cube was peppered with red bursts. The tractor beam holding them cut out abruptly. "Take us out, Warp 8, Mr. Sulu," Kirk snapped. Sulu nodded as he brought the ship about and they went to Warp. The Borg cube followed, albeit at a slower speed.

"I'm going back to Sickbay," McCoy said, "And I'd appreciate you letting me know next time you decide to shake the ship around like that!" He shook his head as he entered the turbolift.

* * *

After a half a day of work, Doctor McCoy felt he had a solution to the zombie problem. It was an antibiotic that searched for the specific protein in the bacteria's cell membrane, instead of targeting its antigens. The hard part, now, was delivering it to the crew before the virus found a way to escape. Another hour, and McCoy could synthesize enough of the cure for three quarters of the crew...

A harsh pounding on the door to the quarantine lab startled him. Preparing to unleash the full power of his 'I-Can-Give-You-Examinations-Every-Day-If-I-So-Choose' glare, McCoy turned around to see a green, rotting face at the window, and his glare died. "Time to test this stuff on a living person," he muttered, loading a hypospray and pressing it to his own neck in the decontamination chamber. Loading another hypo with a more aggressive antibiotic, McCoy put his biohazard helmet back on and looked around the lab for something that could be used as a suitable weapon... Nothing. Not even a phaser. Disheartened, he went over to the wall comm., calling the Bridge.

"Sickbay to Bridge."

"Yes, Bones?"

"Jim... The zombie problem is actually a problem now."

"What do you mean?"

"Apparently the one we had got out. I've got an antibacterial ready, but could you send a security team down? I don't want to face a ravenous zombie armed only with a hypospray."

"Sure thing, Bones. Kirk out."

* * *

Doctor McCoy watched the two Security ensigns get taken down by the zombie. They hadn't even had their phasers out when they got to sickbay, and apparently zombies aren't stopped by phasers on Stun.

McCoy called the bridge again. "They're undead, Jim," he informed the Captain tiredly. "Didn't even have their phasers set to kill."

"They're dead?"

"Undead. I couldn't innoculate them because they didn't take down the zombie."

Kirk swore. "...Could we try transporting you out with the antibiotic?"

"Sure. Let Scotty know I'm in the decontamination chamber of Quarantine Lab 2."

"Of course."

"Kirk to Transporter Room."

"Scott here, sir."

"McCoy needs to be beamed out of Quarantine Lab 2, can you get him out of there?"

"Aye, sir! Just gimme a minute."

"I'll meet you in the transporter room. Kirk out."

* * *

Materializing on the transporter pad, McCoy held the helmet of his biohazard suit under one arm and a box of hyposprays under the other.

"Here's some of the antibiotic," McCoy said, gesturing with the hypos.

"Good." Kirk turned his back to leave, and McCoy reached up and got him with a hypospray.

"Ow, Bones!"

"See, I knew you'd fight if you knew I was going to do that. I've learned how to deal with you over the years!"

The wall comm. whistled. "Spock to Captain Kirk."

Kirk walked over to it. "Kirk here."

"Captain, we've found a small vessel. Its engines are dead, and its life support is failing. One life sign has been detected."

Kirk raised his eyebrows. "We'll beam it aboard, then."

* * *

It sat on the transporter pad, a reminder to the officers in the room of two things extremely unpleasant. They stared at it. Watched as it twitched, squeaked... and started to drag its furry, decomposing body off the transporter pad.

"Bones...?"

"Yeah?"

"...Where's that antibiotic?"

* * *

"Dangit, Jim! This thing's mutated! The antibiotic won't work now, the bacteria's learned to isolate and destroy the compound before it takes effect! Plus it's taken on the identifying antigens of T cells, and tricking the entire immune system into attacking itself. And to top it off, now it reproduces at twice the original speed- probably some gene transfers from the tribble..." McCoy shook his head, glaring at the zombie tribble they'd beamed aboard. This one seemed alive, but showed all the signs of being completely zombified. "There's just nothing for it, Jim. Let's beam the entire business into space."

Kirk shook his head. "Well, we have an antibacterial for the original strain, right? What if we get rid of the new one?"

"If just one cell of the new strain comes in contact with the old..." McCoy warned. "It's bad enough we had to decontaminate all of Sickbay after those security zombies got loose. I don't want a zombie apocalypse on this ship!"

The zombie tribble cooed hoarsely. "Quiet, you!" McCoy snapped. "Even better, let's give these zombies to the Borg! Is that ship still following us?"

"It's pretty far behind, but yes," Kirk admitted, realizing the Borg had been forgotten in the threat of a zombie apocalypse.

"Well, let's get within transporter range and just beam every cell of that bacteria onto their ship!"

Kirk hesitaied. "You do realize I was joking when I suggested that earlier? The Borg and the zombies are both serious threats, but destroying an entire species to be rid of one-"

"Two!"

"-Two problems? It's not right!"

"Jim! The Borg came from God-knows-when in the future. We'll be doing the entire Federation a favor!"

Kirk hesitated again. "All right." He glanced down at the contained tribble zombie. "Bones?"

"Yeah?"

"...Wasn't there only one tribble?"

* * *

"...Let's just get rid of them."

"No. We have to be careful around the Borg. This has to be done carefully."

"You know what, I was wrong. Let's just beam the zombies into space. It's _not_ worth destroying an entire species. Or at least ten thousand of them."

"Bones, are you scared of the Borg?"

"...I just don't want to be assimilated."

"Fine." Kirk rolled his eyes, turning to the comm. unit on the arm of his chair. "Scotty, have you got a lock on the zombies yet?"

"Aye, sir. Every last cell of 'em."

"Well, we're taking the easy way out. Set the destination to empty space, energize when ready."

The sound of the transporter echoed through the comm. system. "They're gone, sir," Scotty said.

"Good." Kirk leaned his head back. "Now then... let's go deal with those Borg."

* * *

A/N: This is, honestly, what I turned in for my science essay. No changes except formatting and some removal of personal info.


End file.
